The Mortolan Rebellion
by Latts Razzi
Summary: It is the beginning of the clone wars. Jango Fett finds himself at the height of his wealth and reputation- But something is missing. A rebellion appears on a small moon near Yavin, and Jango Fett is given a mission to destroy the rebel leader. It sounded simple enough, but once he undertakes this journey, he will never be the same. Like? Dislike? Review! :)
1. Chapter 1

_**Any characters with a resemblance to fan-created anime-manga drawn characters living or dead are purely coincidental. **_

Lightning flashed, illuminating the dark room. He stood alone, staring out the window of his small apartment. The digital clock on the wall read 1:32 A.M., Coruscant time. Jango continued to stare, lost in thought, as growling thunder echoed across the stormy seas below.

Lightening flashed again, and through the reflected glass, Jango saw he was not alone. He turned.

"Boba?"

The dark-eyed boy stared up at him innocently. "Dad."

"Do you need something? Why are you up so late?" He reprimanded his son gently. "You need your rest."

"So do you, Dad." Boba returned, yawning.

Jango chuckled inside, and almost smiled. He drew his son under his arm, and they watched the lightening flicker over the water, silent for a time.

"Dad?"

"Yes, son?"

"Why do we live here?"

Jango stood quietly, thinking. "Because my job is here."

"Would you live somewhere else, if you could?" Boba asked, looking up at him earnestly.

"I'm not sure. I've never found somewhere I could stay for long."

Jango assumed a thoughtful position, returning to the depths of his mind.

"Dad?"

Jango was beginning to be annoyed.

"Yes?"

"What are you thinking about?"

Jango almost replied, but then stopped. "It's time for you to go to bed, Boba." Head hanging, Boba left his father's side to his bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.

What had he been thinking about? Jango himself wasn't sure. It was somewhere deep inside him, hidden under a deep, emotionless mask. Somehow, he was unsatisfied. He didn't know for the life of him why. He had a son he loved dearly, a steady line of work, fierce reputation, and enough money to buy a planet of his own. Most of the money went to Boba's savings account for later use. Despite his immense wealth, he never spent much, preferring the more Spartan life. He was wise enough to know by simple observation, that spending wealth on many possessions does not secure happiness.

A flash of lightening filled the room with white energy, leaving him in a darker state than before as his eyes adjusted. The rumble of thunder shook the apartment, speaking to him. _You know what you want. You know what you want. You know what you want._ Jango pushed it away. Feelings were tricks, tricks your mind play on you. He was not about to give in to the unpredictable land of emotions. It was best to keep his head about him.

The late morning came. Boba walked up to the table zombie-style. Jango sat placidly, sipping his morning cup of caff, and reading the holonet news.

"Sleep well?"

Boba nodded mutely, eyes half closed as he sat down. Jango passed him a bowl of strange assorted fruits. Boba picked his favorite, a green bumpy kind Taun We grew in her laboratory.

His holo-transmitter beeped twice. Jango stood up, bumping the table, and causing Boba to drop his fruit. It fell with a splat, and flecks of green goo splashed all over the floor.

Jango calmly picked up a wet rag, and began scrubbing the floor. Boba picked up another fruit, and the holo-transmitter beeped again. Jango checked it carefully. It wasn't from Kamino, or anyone he knew. He stood up and opened it.

A shimmering blue image appeared, revealing an aging man in elegant robes.

"You are Jango Fett, I presume?" Jango knew by his tone of voice he was of the higher class.

"I am." Jango noticed he was holding a dirty rag for a possible job interview, and dropped it instantly.

"I do need some help. I am the governor of Mortolan. It is a peaceful moon west of Yavin. Recently I have been plagued by rebellion among my citizens. I need you to take out their leader, which I hope will dissolve them."

"My pay?"

"Fifteen thousand credits." Jango almost snorted out loud. Fifteen thousand? Who did he think he was, for a mere fifteen K?

"I understand that this might be a slightly lower rate than usual clients give you, but 15,000 is all I can afford."

_Slightly lower? That's not enough to tempt _anyone_ of my status._

The governor went on. "I understand you are a busy man, but I hope you will come. None of my peacekeepers can keep up with them."

"I accept."

The governor looked surprised and delighted at this acceptance. "I thank you!" He cried, kneeling in gratitude. "I was told if there was anyone who could help me, you would be the man!"

"I am."

"Excellent!" The governor stood up, rubbing his hands together. "Do you wish to know why the rebels—"

"I don't ask for backstories." Jango crossed his arms. "When do you want me?"

"Would as soon as possible be too much?" The governor asked, still rubbing his hands.

"I'll see you in two days." Jango shut the hologram down, and sat on his couch. Boba was wide awake now, and peppered him with questions, eyes shining.

"You got another job?! Where is it? Can I come, Dad? Please? Where is it, Dad?"

Jango smiled at his son's enthusiasm. "You're full of questions today."

"Sorry, Dad." Boba hung his head.

"Questions are nothing to be ashamed of." Boba looked up at him and grinned. "And pack your things. You're coming with me."


	2. Chapter 2

Ordon looked tried to disguise he was nervous. Nervous? Heck, he was terrified! He was almost fifteen, a small, shrimp of a human boy with white-blond hair, a crooked grin, and a nose for books. The last person to be disobeying the rules. He looked about the education facility's courtyard. High stone walls enclosed it, and a shimmering marble fountain was placed in the center. All around, stone benches were strategically placed under young and well-tended trees. The ground was made of cobble-stones, the cracks of which were filled with emerald-colored moss. Patches of wildflowers in large pots, and exotic blossoms gave off wonderful perfumes. It was empty, and the perfect place to relax. But the fact that it was empty was the reason he was anxious.

Ordon waited for a few more minutes before going into a nervous breakdown.

"Ooooh dear. Oh dear dear dear dear dear! Oooh my! Relax, Ordon, just relax! Breathe! Maybe they haven't caught her and she's just a little late. That's all!"

"Boo!" Kamra jumped out of the tree above him. Ordon screamed.

"Shut up!" Kamra hissed.

"Okay!" Ordon practiced his breathing exercises. "You, you have some serious issues, you know that?!"

"Me? Issues? Never." Kamra grinned. "_You're_ the one with the issues, Ordon. You looked like you were having a nervous breakdown."

"You know what? I DID have a nervous breakdown! And it wasn't because I thought I got caught—I was too busy thinking about you and your idiotic—"

Kamra's green eyes looked at him in bored sort of way.

"My idiotic _what_, Ordon?" Kamra's voice lowered dangerously.

"Your—Your—" Ordon stuttered for a moment. "Your silly surprise thing! Why do you always jump out like that? It's—unnerving."

Kamra rolled her eyes, brushing a dirty-blonde streak of hair from her face. Then she changed the subject.

"Do you have it?"

"I'm not sure I want to show you now." Ordon muttered, looking away.

"Of course you do. Because you owe me." Kamra prodded him.

"Fine. But I'll have you know that I have broken six of the Educational Facility's rules to do this. If anyone founds out, I'll be subject to discipline—"

"Ordon, if anyone finds out, you can count on your execution." Kamra said calmly.

"MY WHAT?" Ordon shrieked.

"I said shut the stang up!" Kamra grabbed the frail boy by his uniform collar.

"But you never said—" Ordon protested.

"Broken regulations result in the School Board's Discipline. Aiding or assisting a member of the Mortolan Rebellion is a death sentence. Now open your stupid laptop. Now."

Ordon didn't feel like protesting. Kamra was much older than he was, and had been harshly disciplined as a student for breaking a few noses. She had learned since fifth grade, that in a galaxy where dog eats dog, it takes muscle to earn respect.

Resentfully, Ordon opened his laptop, bringing up the restricted site.

"There it is." He said flatly, passeding her the laptop.

Kamra took it, inspecting the content, eyes growing wide. "How…?"

"Government filters are tricky. But they're not too hard for me." Ordon said.

"I congratulate you, Ordon." Kamra said, inserting a small data chip. "Another hacking miracle."

"A miracle that took four hours." Ordon huffed.

"The rebellion thanks you for your noble service." Kamra mock-saluted him.

"Humph."

"I'll tell you if I need any more assistance."

"You won't be getting any more assistance from me." Ordon huffed.

"That's what you said the last five times." Kamra winked, removed the data chip, and shimmied up the stone wall, stopping at the top. She waved, and jumped over to the other side. Ordon listened to the _thud_ of her boots hitting the ground on the other side, and sighed.


	3. Chapter 3

Kamra stealthily avoided the security cameras that coated the small city, Ralluum. She knew where every single one was, all three hundred and forty-two of them, and how to go back and forth undetected. This made her one of the most useful members of the rebellion. After crossing through the neighborhoods of the rich the in-between, and the ghetto area, she reached the wilderness. The terrain on Mortola was the jungle type, the kind filled with large plants, large bugs, and a vast range of large and also deadly predators that roamed outside the city gates. The perfect place to hide. Kamra knew the way blindfolded, taking several detours to shake off any followers. Not that anyone could follow her without her noticing.

The headquarters for the rebels, or **"Ky-rahs"*** as they were called by the locals, was located four or five miles from Ralluum, underground. Troops and local mobs had been sent out again and again to find them, unsuccessfully. One instance, they walked right over one of the main trapdoors without even noticing them. Kamra found the small, familiar clearing, and brushed away rotting foliage off the trap door, hopping inside. Beneath her was a sealed entrance. Kamra punched in the code, and stepped into the main hallway, cheerfulness in her step. Making her way to the main conference room, Kamra knocked.

"Come in."

At the head of the conference table stood a man, who looked up from his papers. "Ah! Kamra! Were you successful?"

"Oh, Tem. Aren't I always?" Kamra grinned childishly, handing him the data chip. Tem plugged it into his data pad. Tem was the leader of the rebellion, looking forty-five, with a grey head, consistant stubble, and a kind smile. Not the strong, young-and-handsome leader most would imagine from fairy tales.

Tem looked down at the data pad, frowned, and then chuckled. "How does your little friend do it, Kamra?"

"Not a clue." Kamra sat down in one of the chairs, and span in circles. "I've tried removing the filter myself several times."

"Is there anything you haven't tried?" Tem asked, looking up at her with sarcasm. "Seems to me you've tried everything there is to try. Piloting?"

"Yep."

"Dancing?"

"Uh-huh."

"Self-defense?"

"I practice every day."

"How about diving, you know, in the lakes?"

"Check."

"Hunting?"

"Of course!"

"Have you ever gone off-world?"

"A thousand times."

Tem smirked. "I suppose you really have tried everything."

"Well…." Kamra stood up. "I haven't tried that nasty soup in that cafeteria, walking the city walls blindfolded, or fallen in love."

Tem looked thoughtful. "I don't think the last one is something to be avoided. You've never fallen in love once? Had a childhood crush? Surely of someone your age…"

"Nope!" Kamra stopped spinning. "My age?" Kamra chuckled. "I'm eighteen. And besides, I have no time. I'm _far_ too busyscouting, and running errands like this for _you_."

"Someday you will eat your words, Kamra Martell."

"Ha!" Kamra laughed.

"You'de be surprised. Many people are attracted to an adventurous spirit."

"But how could you possibly go on adventures with a husband and children clinging to you all day?"

"You'd just have to find a man who could adapt to your…. Active habits." Tem finished. "Thank you for retrieving this information. Now that we know how to build the XCD laser cannons, our enemy won't stand a chance."

"I hope so." Kamra said, standing up and stretching. "I feel sorry for any civvies who get in the way of _that_."

Tem shook his grey head. "We'll be aiming solely for the governor council building."

"But there will be slaves inside! How can we liberate them if we blow them to bits?!"

"You know very well the purpose of our rebellion is not to save the slaves, but to remove a corrupt government."

Kamra gave him a mean glare.

"I'm not disagreeing that slavery is wrong—"

"And disgusting." Kamra added, crossing her arms.

"—And disgusting," Tem agreed. "but we need to stay focused on our main goal, and set up the old democracy. I cannot stand to see the manipulation of our people by this vile oligarchy."

Kamra gave him a blank stare.

Tem rephrased his words. "I cannot stand to see our people forced to do whatever these governors want them to do."

"Much better, General Tem!" Kamra gave him one of her mischievous grins. "You sounded like a dictionary for a few seconds—I mean, that is, you had the vocal implementation of a reference volume for a diminutive measure of time."

"Out."

Kamra bowed dramatically, and departed on an oath to walk the city walls blindfolded.

*The Word **Ky-rah**, (KEY-rah) from the old native language of Mortola, meant, quite literally, death-traitor. The word Ky-rah was often used to describe those who were charged of serious crimes, such as murder and treason.


	4. Chapter 4

Jango watched his son carefully lower Slave 1 into the atmosphere of Mortola.

"It's great, isn't it, Dad?" Boba had a smile on his face so bright, Jango smiled himself beneath his helmet, but did not reply.

"We should live here!" Boba said, excitement rising in his voice.

Jango actually considered it for a moment. It was a bright, emerald jewel, coated with dense jungle and forest, with the occasional lake. As they flew in closer, Jango could see a small white speck, glittering like a diamond on a mottled green robe.

"There, Boba. That's the city." Jango pointed.

"What's it called?"

"Ralluum. Population fifteen thousand. 2 percent 5 percent enslaved, and the rest of the populous is of the lower working class."

"It's not very big." Boba remarked.

"Do you still want to live here?" Jango asked, watching his son proudly.

"Yeah." It's not as rainy as Kamino. Look!" Boba pointed to the delicate city, with tall, winding spires, towers, lush gardens and fountains.

"Yes, I see it Boba. It's very beautiful."

"No, Dad. LOOK!" Jango followed his son's gaze to the high marble wall that surrounded it. Atop of this wall, was what looked like a young woman, walking atop the walls backwards. And blindfolded.

"She's going to fall!" Boba shouted. The young woman began to lose her balance, limbs waving through the air.

"We can't interfere." Jango said stiffly. "It may be a punishment."

"Are you sure Dad?"

"I'm positive. No one would do that sort of thing for fun. Take us to the hangar, that way." To Jango's great relief, she did not fall, but caught her balance, continuing the slow, backward walk. Jango slapped himself mentally. He shouldn't have felt anything. He must be going soft.

"Just land us." He commanded.

"Yes, Dad." Boba complied, but his voice failed to hide the contempt in his voice.

"Boba, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't—"

"I know." Said Boba, finally masking his voice. "Interfere."

Jango crossed his arms. It hurt him to see his son upset, but he could never compromise his values. It would be a poor example.


End file.
